Testosterone Boys and Harlequin Girls
by leDASHann
Summary: Harry/Hermione. A one-shot fic based on the song Lying Is The Most Fun A Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off by Panic! At The Disco. Enjoy.


Testosterone Boys and Harlequin Girls

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of its characters. (I sure wish I did!) They are all property of the one and only JK Rowling.

_Is it still me that makes you sweat?  
Am I who you think about in bed?  
When the lights are dim and your hands  
Are shaking as you're sliding off your dress_

_- Lying Is The Most Fun A Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off, Panic! At The Disco_

Evening. Oh, how I hated it. Some would say it is the best time of the day. You get to take off your shoes, hang up your robes, toss away your wand and collapse on that comfy bed that you've been looking forward to all day. Not me. I'm up every night, tossing and turning, trying to close my eyes and find some peace.

Nightmares.

That's probably the first thing that came into your mind. That would be a logical answer to my insomnia. But no. Not for me. That's not the case for prim and proper Hermione Granger.

What's causing all my troubles? Three words.

Harry Bloody Potter.

I know you've probably heard of him. The Boy-Who-Lived. The Chosen One. The One Who Defeated Voldemort. He's all of the above but and more. He also happens to be my best friend, as well as the main reason why I'm sexually frustrated. Yes. You heard me right. Sexually frustrated. And by Merlin's beard do I want to kill him for it.

I might as well tell you the whole story since I know you're dying to hear it.

It all started two months ago when Harry and I went out to a bar after one of our assignments. Needless to say, things got a little out of hand. A couple of drinks led to a few more and I ended up getting to know Harry in a way that was far from platonic.

We had sex. Simple as that. And now I can't get him out of my bloody head. Instead of using my brain for something useful like reading, it's being occupied with fantasies of that green eyed, dark headed man. God, I'm going insane.

I even tried dating other men in attempt to forget him, but that just made the situation worse. Every time I was with another man, the same observations swam through my head: Harry has more wit, a better kiss, a hotter touch, a better fuck than any one of them. Each one of those men didn't seem worth the effort afterwards. At times, I swear I could hear Harry laughing at me every time I broke it off with another guy. Probably just another side effect of the Potter disease.

I hope he carries around a sign that says: "Warning: don't have sex with me unless you're willing to not get any sleep for the rest of your life," the next time he goes out with a woman. At least they would be ready for the insanity that would soon become a part of lives as it has to mine. Unfortunately for me, the insanity is about to take control over my entire being. I have to see him tonight. I'm sitting here at the bar. This god damned forsaken bar.

He's been out on assignment for the last month and he insisted that we needed to talk about his travels. It's funny how things fall into place like this. I would rather be in my bed trying to forget him than face him in about 5 minutes. Nope. I was wrong. 10 seconds. He just walked through the door. I hate my life.

"Hermione," he says calmly approaching the bar, "long time, no see."

"It's only been a month," I say bitterly, wishing that it had been more.

"Hey," he says in a joking way, "calm down, woman."

"Very funny."

"Exactly what did I do to deserve this incredibly_attractive_ attitude of Hermione Granger?" he questions, raising his eyebrows and folding his arms across his chest.

I was about to lose it and tell him exactly what was on my mind, when the reality of where we were hit me.

"I don't think this is the best place for me to say anything to you, Harry Potter." I look into his eyes and see that they quickly change from playful to worry.

"Hermione," he says softly, "please tell me what's wrong."

"Don't use that pathetic tone with me. You know exactly what you did and I want you to take it back. Take it all back so I can spend my nights in peace instead of squirming around thinking about you."

"Hermione," he says, somewhat annoyed, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Right."

"Honestly, I don't."

"Well, that's just lovely then, isn't it?"

"Hermione, you're being difficult."

"No, this situation is difficult."

"Why don't you just tell me what's going on?"

"I can't!" I yell out, raising my hands in the air in frustration. Several people turn around to look at the commotion the two of us are causing and realize that this is the perfect time to leave. Taking Harry's hand, I dragged him out of the bar and apparated the two of us back to my apartment.

The loud crack echoed through the empty living room and I turned to face him.

"Just leave, Harry. I have nothing more to say to you."

"I want to know what's bothering you."

I laugh.

"I bet you would."

"Hermio--"

"Don't_Hermione_ me!"

"Well, if you just told me what it is we're fighting about."

"YOU!" I shout in defeat. "It's you. You and your stupid charm. You had to. You had to sleep with me."

"What?"

"That night. When we got drunk and we ended up--oh god, this is embarrassing." I took a seat on the couch, my face falling into the palms of my hands.

"Hermione," he says quietly while taking a seat beside me, "why would that bother you so much? I told you how I felt about it, and you said it meant nothing to you."

"I lied," I say, looking into his eyes, "ever since that night, I haven't been able to get you out of my head."

I stare at him hoping that he understands what I'm saying. Seeing the puzzled look on his face I continue to speak in desperation.

"I want to hold you, Harry," the words coming out quickly. "I want to kiss you, _touch_ you."

His eyes widen as I lean towards him.

"I've had this desire to be with you for the last two months and I haven't been able to extinguish it."

Our noses are bumping and our lips brush slightly. I can hear my heart pounding in my ears.

"I want you, Harry."

"I'm yours."

Our lips meet in a fiery kiss that sends chills down my spine. I moan loudly and whisper his name. His arms are around my waist, while mine are wrapped around the back of his neck. We break away from the war of tongues, teeth and lips and look at each other in silence. I stare at him, his emerald eyes piercing into my soul. Without a doubt, we both have the same thought running through our heads:

Finally.


End file.
